


and who shall wear the starry crown?

by TruebornAlpha



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anniversary, Booker x Accountability, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Mentioned Nile Freeman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: “To one more year.” Joe said, and took a drink.There were 99 more to go.A year after Booker's banishment, Nicky and Joe take a moment to reflect.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 29
Kudos: 127





	and who shall wear the starry crown?

They were too old for anniversaries. 

With every passing year, Nicky found himself making measurements in decades. It was hard to remember what happened on which July 17, or even, what happened specifically in 1620. But Joe liked them, even if he wasn’t very good at them either, so Nicky didn’t protest and made a genuine effort to make note of the important things in their life.

This day was different. First commemorations stood out more. 

There were 99 more to go.

They were in the outskirts of Maputo, in an apartment complex they owned through two shell corporations. It was still in Andy's name. A part of him twisted when he realized they'd have to handle that. Not tonight. Tonight was for watching his beloved as he leaned over the balcony railing, back-lit by the twinkling lights of the city.

In the distance, Maputo’s towering skyline stood winked at them enticingly. They were part of the old town, and modernity would eventually swallow up this neighborhood as it had the rest.

There was an empty glass balanced on the rail. Nicky wasn’t pleased. Joe could do whatever he wanted, but the past few decades had steered him away from drink. It came and went with his faith, though more consistently than Nicky’s need for confession. If God tested you for centuries, He could not reasonably expect consistency.

Before his thoughts could fold in on each other, Joe turned and smiled at him, a crooked little thing against the evening shadows. Nicky placed a kiss on shoulder and settled by his side without hesitation. Only that glass stood between them. 

Joe pulled out a flask, poured out two thumbs of amber liquid. It smelled like whiskey. Sebastien preferred it.

Nicky hooked his fingers into the offered glass, and still hesitated to drink, unsure if he was saluting a memory or mourning. Joe chuckled with little humor, raised the flask in toast.

“To one more year.” Joe said, and took a drink. He made a face around the taste, and Nicky was charmed every time. That might have been the point.

It still hurt, and he could tell that Joe was in pain by the very way he held himself. There were plenty of wounds that took so much longer to heal than the body. 

He sighed and held his glass out to the city belong them before taking a long drink and savoring the burn. 

There should have been more of them here tonight. They should have had their family together. _Damn him._

But there was one thing more important than any other. Nicky asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm appalled that Nile doesn't like matapa. I don't know how I'll ever recover." Joe answered immediately, always so quick with his tongue. Nicky sometimes wondered if he practiced. 

"She doesn't like coconut, Joe. It's not a crime."

"You can’t even taste it. It’s not the same thing! Bah."

Nicky laughed like he was meant to, and when he opened his arms, Joe moved to settle between them. Nicky plastered himself against his back, thought about how, in another time and place, Joe might have wanted to show Nile how they loved to paint the town red on occasions. He wondered if that nightclub from '62 was still up and running or if Andy’s last display had scared them off. 

This was a different anniversary as well, give or take a few days, and what were those in the grand scheme of things? Nicky would have given a lot to only be celebrating that one.

"You can try to convince her again tomorrow."

Joe huffed, in the way Nicky knew meant he'd earned a smile. "Thank you, I will." Then softer, no less sincere, he added, “I see why the boss picked her. Not that either of them need my blessing, but I can see it. She’ll be running this show in no time.”

“She’s a special one. I’m glad she found us.” Nicky hummed his approval, and picked apart what his lover didn’t say. This wasn’t new. They’d known Nile would be a good fit for months, even with her grief and her regret. She had so much spirit, and she was so fast. Nicky looked forward to catching up.

He kissed Joe's curls. The city serenaded them. It gave Joe time. Joe never could get his words out without preamble. One always needed the company of a dozen. He took too much time ordering in restaurants, too.

"We wouldn't have seen this place if she hadn't rescued us." Joe said, in a tone meant to convince himself more than anyone else. "But she did, and we are whole and unhurt.”

But Joe was also wrong.

They'd come out of this thing whole and with a new member of the family, something so rare that it had to be celebrated. Nile was a treasure. She breathed life into them and especially into Andy. It meant everything to see the boss like that again. It reminded Nicky of the old days before they'd lost so much. It almost felt like she was alive again. He would never have traded Nile for the world. That didn't mean it still didn't hurt. It didn’t mean they hadn’t lost something vital.

"I miss him." He admitted softly, as he nuzzled in close to Joe's neck, and chased his steady pulse. "And I'm still angry. I should forgive him eventually, especially when he is working through his penance, but I haven't yet. I don't know how to."

Joe exhaled in a rush, close enough that Nicky could feel it in his ribs, and Joe took another swig.

"Does it matter?" He asked, in a single breath, expression twisting. "I already know I'm going to forgive him. Eventually. Because we have _eventually._ Some days I feel like an idiot for- for wasting my time. Like we should just... Get it over with. Find a way or don’t. It will happen."

"It matters." It was rare for him to raise his voice, even with anger like shards in his veins. Nicky was surprised by his own vehemence, but Joe turned to look at him all the same. "He carried so much grief, I know. I wish to God we could have helped him with that burden and every day I miss him here. He's family, but he betrayed us. I love him, and that wasn’t enough for him."

The fear had faded with time, but what it left behind was jagged and ugly. Sorrow and mistrust were laid bare. It left so much room for more anger than he was used to bearing. A millennium had given him plenty of perspective. He'd seen wars and suffering the likes of which no one should have to endure. He'd lost too, he'd grieved. He'd been crushed under the weight of it at times, he knew. 

It was like a dam burst. Suddenly Nicky needed more than an extra dozen. "A thousand years, Joe. We've been betrayed before, but never by one of us. We're all we have in this, and he took it away from us. Merrick, the experiments, I could forgive that someday, but that? I don't know, and that scares me."

He ran a hand through his hair, unsettled and not sure what to do with it. There was nothing to fight. Nothing that could fixed by anything except time and compassion. Joe turned in his grip to face him. 

“Nicky.” A hand on his cheek, and Nicky didn’t budge, but Joe was wheedling now, and he knew how to do it so well. “Nicolo. Sweetheart. _Piccolo_ Nicolo.”

“You know that one’s wrong. I know you do.” Nicolo snorted, took a sip of his drink to hide his smile, and to hide the fact that he didn’t welcome the attempt. Joe noticed anyway. His eyes were so kind. When he spoke, the mirth had faded into nothing.

"I have to believe he can get better, Nicolo. That at the end of all this, he is our brother, and he will find his way back to us." Joe whispered. "And then I can learn to trust the man he will be, but not the one who hurt us."

Nicky sighed. His shoulders slumped, and when Joe took his drink away, he didn’t protest. 

He was right was the problem. Nicky wasn't going to argue that. If time did not heal, then it would dull and soften. Everyone could change, especially those who had lifetimes ahead of them. If a single mortal could remake themselves in such a short span, then they had countless opportunities to make themselves better. 

He was still so angry. It wasn't that they'd been hurt, though that could have been enough. No one was allowed to put his family at risk, not Yusuf, not Andy, and now not Nile. So much could have gone wrong. He'd seen Joe suffer and they could have spent years if not more as lab rats in cages, being tortured until they broke. Booker could have killed Andy and hey would have lost her forever.

It was more than the pain he inflicted. It was the fact that the only people they'd ever truly been vulnerable or open with had been each other. In a thousand years, betrayal had been impossible to even consider.

He wasn’t ready to make peace with his anger, but no one was asking him for it tonight.

“I thought you were the one having trouble with this tonight.” He said, almost an accusation. Joe’s mouth quirked in a not quite smile. Nicky couldn't place why he didn't like it, but it made his palms twitch.

“Who says I'm not?” Joe leaned backwards, let the railing catch him, and Nicky pinned him in place. Joe let him. "I think about dropping this glass off the balcony, or going into the kitchen and smashing every plate we have, just because it might end this sooner. I think about forgiving him just because I'm tired of feeling incomplete. I'm tired of being so tired. And then I wonder if Copley destroyed every ounce of evidence like he promised, or if there's enough out there for ambitious men to hunt us. I'm _tired,_ Nicky, but _wallahi,_ I don't want to see him or I will draw blood."

"That's not forgiveness, Joe."

"I know."

Nicky didn’t say anything, but he didn’t feel like he had to. Tonight was for sorrow and unfair grief, and the tired, weary approach of hope. Maybe they could get a better drink from whatever sewer Joe had dug that whiskey out of. 

"In a hundred years perhaps I will be ready."

Until then, he had the time to relearn how to speak to his brother without anger, and to help alleviate the pain that settled on his family’s bones. Joe tilted his head up, coaxing him in for a kiss, and Nicolo could not deny him in this lifetime or the next.

"Well," Joe said, voice smooth and warm like honey. "Ninety nine years now.”

They would be ready.

**Author's Note:**

> We really like Booker, actually. So do Joe and Nicky.
> 
> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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